


Flimsy

by cornflakepizza



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Attempted Rape, Brotherhood, Hot Cocoa, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakepizza/pseuds/cornflakepizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely inspired by <a href="http://mmtrn.tumblr.com/post/34501814951">this art</a> by <a href="http://mmtrn.tumblr.com/">mmtrn</a>. Last minute rescues. Brotherly bonding. Jason and Damian being precious babies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flimsy

“Come on, little one. Smile pretty for me.”

Damian snarled, but his limbs felt much too heavy and sluggish to do anything other than turn his head away from the leering men. He was kneeling in front of at least eight armed men, and he was sure there were at least a few more at his back. He wasn’t sure if it was the dust in the abandoned warehouse or something they had drugged him with that made it so hard to breathe. The cement floor was cold and hard under his barely protected knees, and each shaky breath he drew in seared through his lungs.

They must have dressed him while he was unconscious. There was something silky on his legs - sheer white stockings, he realized with a jolt - but otherwise he was bare-legged beneath something all too short and frilly. Damian attempted to scan the area around him for a sign of his missing civilian clothes, but turning his neck side to side made his head spin.

He took in the fabric flounced around his hips. The back of the white skirt was filthy with dust and dirt. Damian wasn’t sure if that had been there before or if that was just the result of his current position on the ground. He shivered with the thought that someone else had worn the same outfit at some previous point.

He touched a hand to the top of his head. He could feel a fabric bow affixed to a headband. The band pushed the hair out of his face, away from his eyes, denying him any bit of refuge from the sight of the men’s leering faces.

“That’s it, baby. Why don’t you show me those pretty pink panties?”

Damian winced as one of the men dragged his boot up his thigh, nudging the flimsy sheer skirt up with it.

“Come on, baby, don’t be a tease,” another man slurred before throwing a glass bottle at him. Damian cringed as the bottle shattered four feet to his left and splattered him with tepid beer. He placed his fingers at the edge of the sheer skirt and rubbed the fabric through his fingertips. It was cheap - rayon, perhaps - and felt insubstantial between his fingers. He lifted the hem with two hands, carefully pulling the sides up to reveal his tan legs, but he let the center of the skirt hang down and shield the sight of his panty-encased crotch. He might be forced to put himself on display for them, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to follow their instructions like an trained dog.

“Oh, that’s  _good_ , baby.” One of the men grinned and openly rubbed his bulge through his pants. “You know how to tease a man just right.”

Damian cringed and turned his head away from the lewd sight. Of course. They just  _had_  to take that one bit of defiance, that one last expression of will, away from him.

He bit his lip and willed himself not to cry as he heard at least two of them unzipping their pants, and then the sick sound of someone sliding themselves into a spit-slick fist.

“I bet you’ve got a nice tight hole, don’t you, precious?” one of the men growled, sending a thrill of fear down Damian’s spine. The sound of heavy footsteps neared him, and without warning his head was yanked back by his hair.

“You’re gonna like this, sweetie,” the man said with twisted smile, stroking his cock above Damian’s form. Damian stared up at him, horrified. The man’s cock was much too close, and it was going to drip, drip right down onto Damian’s face if he didn’t move out of the way soon.

There was a shout behind him, and then the sound of a scuffle. Damian threw himself flat onto the ground as the man in front of him released his grip on his hair and backed up. There was the sound of the men shooting at something, at some _one_. There were grunts, and then screams, and then Damian was being scooped up by someone who smelled like leather and sweat.

“Took you long enough,” Damian slurred against the man’s chest as he sprinted them both out of the building.

“And whose fault is that?” Jason sounded angry, but it was hard to tell with the helmet on and through the drug-induced haze. “ _I’m_  not the one who left his fucking comm device at home.  _I’m_  not the one who decided to go undercover without telling anyone first.”

“ _Tt_.” The protest sounded weak muffled against Jason’s chest.  _Damian_  sounded weak. He looked more fragile than Jason had ever seen him before.

“We’re almost there. Don’t pass out on me yet.”

Damian was shivering. Why the boy had decided to go out practically naked, Jason didn’t know. He stole a glance down at the child in his arms as he slowed his running speed. He could tell Damian’s stomach and arms were bared, and the flimsy, see-through skirt couldn’t provide much warmth. Jason could see the goose-pimpled flesh of Damian’s thighs peeking out over sheer stockings.

When he was sure the thugs had fallen far enough behind, Jason ducked them into a dark alley. He set Damian down, who stumbled for a moment before falling against the brick wall.

Jason pulled his helmet off. “Is there a reason you decided to ditch the Robin gear for the princess look?” Jason asked, placing a hand at Damian’s back to steady him as he nearly fell again.

“ _I_  didn’t choose this outfit, you swine.”

“Watch it,” Jason growled, but he pulled the shaking boy closer to his chest.

“The criminals…scum…p-put me in a girl’s dress….”

Damian’s teeth were chattering. Jason shifted and tried to shield him from the wind’s chill.

“Are you…are you okay, though? Did they—”

“They didn’t molest me, if that’s what you’re asking. Jesus, Todd, get a grip.”

“ _Hey_.” Jason seized Damian by his upper arms. “If you got hurt…it’s okay. I mean, it’s not _okay_ , but. Whatever happened, it’s not your fault. It would never be your fault.”

“ _Tt_ ,” Damian scoffed, but he couldn’t bear to meet Jason’s eyes. There was too much knowledge there of what happened to little boys who were out in the streets too late at night.

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I should probably get you home.”

“No!” Damian cried out before he realized what he was doing. “I mean, no. I don’t think that’s wise. Not with Drake being at the cave right now, unless you  _want_ him to attack you on sight _.”_

“Well, I’m not letting you walk home like this. You’re a wreck.”

“I didn’t say that,” Damian gritted out.

“Well, unless you plan to co— _oh_.” Jason scratched the side of his nose. “Yeah, okay. I guess you can come with me.”

Damian tried to stand up on his own and nearly toppled over again. Jason realized that the boy was wearing heels.

“It’ll be faster if we swing. Do you think you can hold on to me?”

Damian didn’t reply, but wrapped his arms tightly around around Jason’s shoulders. Jason heaved the boy up and grabbed for his grappling gun, trying his hardest to ignore the pitiful sound of Damian’s shallow breaths near his ear.

* * *

Damian emerged from the bedroom dressed in a clean pair of Jason’s boxers and an oversized sweatshirt that fell to his thighs.

It hurt to see someone else in that sweater, even someone who looked so much like its original owner. Everything was a constant reminder that life had moved on since then, that he had been replaced…possibly in more ways than one.

Damian shuffled to the kitchen and took a seat at the table across from Jason.

“Do you want to….” The question died in Jason’s throat. There was a moment of awkward silence.

“I want that.” Damian pointed to a cannister sitting out on the counter. Jason followed the finger and raised an eyebrow.

“Cocoa it is.”

Jason busied himself with heating up the milk and sugar, occasionally turning back to look at the boy sitting at the rickety table. Damian was pulling at the loose strings on the hem of his sweatshirt. He only looked up once Jason began pouring the steaming cocoa into two chipped mugs.

Damian he sipped delicately at his cup and made a face. “This isn’t nearly as good as Pennyworth’s.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t go to culinary school, so you’re going to have to suck it up.”

They sat silence for a few more minutes, letting the drinks cool in their hands.

“So…is there a reason you didn’t want to go home tonight?”

Damian stared determinedly at his cup. “I…I didn’t want Father to know of my moral failure.”

“Kid, that’s not—Jesus. You didn’t  _fail_. What happened was some sick fucks got the upper hand. You’re just a—” He broke off.

Damian’s hands were shaking around the mug. “I—I didn’t—if you hadn’t come….” Damian sucked in a shaky breath. “They took my clothes.”

“Yeah.”

“They took my clothes and put me on display like some kind of  _slut_. That’s what I am now.” Before Jason could respond, Damian was tearing up. “I’ve ruined Robin.”

“Ki—Damian. The fact that those fuckers tried to take advantage of you doesn’t make you a ‘slut’, not that there even  _is_  such a thing. Shit.” Jason looked on helplessly as Damian hiccupped over his cocoa. “I’m pretty sure every Robin thinks he’s ruined Robin, usually for way less significant reasons than what you just went through.”

Damian sniffed. “What about Father?”

“Bruce is….” Jason paused and tried to put his impression of the man into words. “Bruce cares about you, Damian. He probably cares about you more than anyone else.” It was painful to admit. “More than anything else, he’s going to be glad you’re okay.”

Jason swirled the contents of his cup while Damian wiped his eyes on the sleeve of the ratty sweatshirt.

“Listen. Bruce doesn’t…he doesn’t care about that kind of stuff. He never has.” Jason downed the bittersweet dregs of his cocoa and tried to cull the shakiness from his voice. “You don’t owe him anything. You don’t owe him a thing, and certainly not an apology.”

Damian drank the rest of his cocoa in silence. When the cup was empty, he yawned and stretched his arms.

“I think I will sleep now.”

Jason watched as the boy pulled the hood over his head and pillowed himself into his arms, right there at the table. Jason sighed and heaved the boy over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked sleepily, his eyes still closed as Jason moved them to the living room.

“I eat there. I don’t want you drooling all over the place.”

Jason wasn’t sure if the next sound Damian made was a response or a snore. He set the boy onto the couch and threw a blanket over him. Jason waited until the boy’s breathing steadied, then flicked off the lights and moved towards his own bedroom. He was about to shut the door when he heard the sound of Damian’s voice, softened by sleep and possibly something else.

“Todd…. Thank you.”


End file.
